and it's the Same color as my dress

anonymous asked:

My favorite thing about that terrible quote about "rural white people have no culture" is it literally says white Americans don't have special wedding dresses when like... we have a style and color of wedding dress that is so culturally mandatory that they all look roughly the same and virtually every women has to wear it when she gets married and it's treated as so sacred that mothers sometimes pass it down to their daughters and you can never ever wear that dress except on your wedding day.

yeahh like the fact that the author of that quote is a white man who says he was born in a rural ohio town makes it really transparent that he was speaking from a “fish dont know water” angle

  • Scout Aesthetics: Fresh laundry. Hot dogs for dinner. Cold pizza for breakfast. A really good haircut. A joke so funny that you cry. New shoes. The CRACK! of a baseball on a wooden bat. FOMO. Peppermint chewing gum. Runner's high. Your first crush.
  • Soldier Aesthetics: Pine trees. Cold dew on a summer morning. MRE's that don't taste like paper pulp. Cornfields as far as the eye can see. Screaming at the sky late at night. Turkey with stuffing. White bread in a plastic sleeve. Getting gum on your shoes.
  • Pyro Aesthetics: Scented candles and burnt popcorn. Fresh-cut daisies. Drawing with charcoal. Sun bleached bones. The smell of gasoline. Gel pens. Your favorite animated movie. The scapegoat. Not caring at all.
  • Demoman Aesthetics: Butterscotch and sulfur. Rolling meadows of grass. Sand in your shoes. Fried fish in a greasy newspaper. Fireworks on a warm summer evening. Wool turtleneck sweaters. Being double-dog-dared to swim in the lake during winter. The best hole-in-the-wall pub in the world.
  • Heavy Aesthetics: Dusty old books. Creaking floorboards. Fresh winter snow. A really good sandwich. Finding a new favorite novel. A handmade scarf. Getting a good grade on an assignment. First editions. Going to the natural history museum. Firmly believing why you were put on this earth.
  • Engineer Aesthetics: Breakfast foods. Campfires. The satisfying clicking of clockwork machinery. Reading bedtime stories aloud. T-shirts with math jokes on them. Tuning a guitar. Petting zoos. Knowing your limits. Learning about something that makes you really happy. A cool looking rock.
  • Medic Aesthetics: Antiseptic. Down comforters. Really round fluffy birds. Bad puns. Doing things because you can. Hot tea. Waking up before the sun does. Whistling. Dry cleaning. Fun facts about animals. Really strange nonfiction books. Windy winter days.
  • Sniper Aesthetics: Dirt and black coffee. Climbing a tree. People watching. Road trips. Going to bed and realizing you haven't spoken to anyone all day. Fairy bread. Getting caught in the rain. Really cool scars. Having a story for everything. Polarized lenses.
  • Spy Aesthetic: Vermouth and tobacco. Minimalist cuff links. Playing cards. Hair pomade. Silk ties. Your first love. A passing feeling of emptiness. Heels clicking on polished floors. Crusty dinner rolls with soft warm bread on the inside.
  • Pauling Aesthetics: Lavender hand soap. Gunpowder. Lilac polo shirts. Worn black denim. Staying up late and watching the home shopping channel because you can't sleep. Beat-up firearms catalogs. Telling your mother to return your birthday gift because your workplace has strict dress codes regarding clothing colors, even though you desperately need that new skirt. Finding drawings from when you were a child. Soft wool cardigans. Shiny silver knives. Yogurt with fruit. Hating and loving your job at the same time.
Satan Emoji Reviews

The fuck is this bullshit? Purple? The horns are too large and off the sides of its head? and what’s with that gradient? Apple you can suck my ass. 0/10

Now this is a quality satan. Classic red color with some striking yellow eyes. Expression portrays complete disgust which is what I feel at Apple’s emoji. At the same time he’s a blobby boy and I feel like I want to hug him but he’d eat my hand off. 100/10

what the FUCK is this GARBAGE? jesus christ it’s all shapes that were premade in paint! awful! the only reason it’s better than Apple’s is because it’s red. 1/10

Now this one is unique. At first you may think it’s a child DRESSED as satan, but notice the lack of headband, oddly colored hair, beady eyes, and fangs. No, no, boys what we have here is a good ol’ fashioned antichrist child. A beautifully impish little lad. Not satan but creative. 9/10

Bitch looks like he took a swim in buffalo sauce. Disgraceful but let’s be real satan probably would. 8/10

Love! Him! Look at that devious face! He looks young and fresh, he is a baby. Evil satan baby has my heart. 10/10

it’s PURPLE…. however it has a delightful shiny exterior. not a perfect surface, a blob boy. 5/10

this one is so shite that I’m not even going to say anything about it. Instead I’m going to tell you my review of Fuller House. Overall I found the storylines and episodes to be lacking greatly, but sheer nostalgia kept me watching. I cannot deny that the episodes where everyone comes together again made me very emotional. Could use some work but I am weak and will keep watching new seasons. I give Fuller House a 7/10

Very plain and basic, but the solid colors and cell shading is a nice choice. Not as mean as he could be but still pretty pissed. 4/10

An ugly little man. He’s trying too hard. He’s the guy who shows up at parties but won’t stop talking about his new vape pen. “Please, I’ve heard about your Sex on the Beach flavored vape juice 10 times. Let me go.” You say, but he’s not listening. He tells you he’s going to do a cool vape trick, but he just blows vape in your face. It smells like pineapple pizza. “Let me try again I’ve got it this time.” he says, messing up again. He continues to do this until the Google satan shows up and slaps the vape pen out of his hand. Emoji One Satan starts sobbing hysterically. 5/10

this one looks like that one little fuckhead from Scary Godmother. God I hate that kid. I had a nightmare about him once where he was just slamming all my doors in my house. He also ate a box of frozen corndogs in my kitchen and didn’t close the freezer. What a douchenozzle. 1/10

I Got Rhythm: Costuming “An American In Paris,” Part I

Hello, dear readers, and welcome back to Broadway by Design! After taking a look at some unorthodox costumes in my Tanz der Vampire/Le Bal des Vampires, I’m shifting gears back towards traditional Broadway, this time with a still-Parisian twist. By request from an Anon (and with encouragement from my dear friend @annbradleys ), I’m moving up my review of Bob Crowley’s couture-inspired designs from An American in Paris, and I can’t wait to get started!

For those not familiar with this production, it takes its lead from the 1951 movie of the same name. Stunningly for an Oscar-winning production in this era, the costumes for the movie were not Edith Head, but were a team effort by Orry-Kelly, Walter Plunkett, and Irene Sharaff. For the stage production, Bob Crowley definitely took some inspiration from the original movie, but moved in a new direction that was inspired by the high fashion (couture) of post-war France, which means his costumes are elegant, simple, and visually appealing. Let’s dive in, this time with images courtesy of Vanity Fair, which spent quite a bit of time promoting the production:

I’m starting with a group shot for a reason: it gives us an idea of where the costumes start before we begin to look at some of the more unique designs that were given to individual actors and ensemble members. The production is set in post-war Paris, so it makes sense that (especially on the female members of the cast) the costumes are somewhat demure. The style on the women’s dresses are similar, but with an air of refinement in each of them. I like how, despite similar fabrics and patterns, the cut on the green and red-orange dresses on the righthand side are quite different, with the latter sporting a doubled look and the one on the right looking a bit more timeless and classical. The dress in the center and on the left both share that timelessness, but in shades of color that are simply ravishing. I’m not as much of an expert on male costuming, but the mens’ suits are visually appealing and fit the era (late 1940s) extremely well. It’s difficult to get a suit wrong but believe it or not, I have seen it done.

The same Vanity Fair coverage gave us insight into Bob Crowley’s design processes for well, especially for the more elaborate costumes. Below, I’ve included a couple of his design sketches so I can comment a little on that process before proceeding to look at some of the more visually appealing dresses that appear in this production:

(Caption: Galeries Lafayette - Customers/Ladies who lunch)

(Caption: Milo Davenport | Ritz | Chaldet AAIP Ballet, with side notation indicating there is a fur wrap)

Color sketches are how a costume designer first lays out his or her vision for the wardrobe department. A designer, while intimately involved in every aspect of producing a costume, is not a single force and works with an extensive team in the costume shop of the theatre. This includes any number of tailors and seamstresses who will do the actual work of assembling the outfits to the people who add jewel or beadwork, all to the designer’s exacting specifications. But these sketches, often done in pencil and watercolor for intensity of color, are where it all begins. Notice how not every detail is outlined at this early stage; even if these are what the public envisions when they think of designer sketches, they aren’t the finished product. This, however, is how the work gets started and it can take an enormous amount of back-and-forth consultation between the costume designer, the costume shop, the set designer (can’t have color clashes or competition for the audience’s attention!), and even the actor or actress who will wear the finished product. The idea is to give a rough expectation of the finished product while allowing the flexibility to make changes for later. It’s the same process used by fashion designers making regular clothing or runway dresses, but with a different set of people consulted at each step.

Bob Crowley’s designs, as the sketches show, reflect a classic look, something a bit more sophisticated than many of the dresses I have reviewed recently. That’s intentional given the time setting of An American in Paris; as I noted in my reviews of War Paint, the post-war era is where couture really started to come into its own. The designs reflect that while making sense in the context of the musical. There’s a tremendous use of color in the sketches, and that later gets transformed into some beautiful costume designs for the Milo character in particular. With thanks to BroadwayBox, I want to look at a few outfits Milo wears in particular:

I started with this outfit for Milo (as played ably by Jill Paice) because, lo and behold, it matches one of Bob Crowley’s design sketches above! What was once simply pencil and watercolor has now become a far more complex and complete costume from head to toe. We can see that he kept the same red for the dress as in the sketch, as well as the bow-like adornment that lies on the character’s waist. The coat has changed dramatically (remember what I said about sketches changing often?) and is now a black-and-red checked pattern rather than white-and-red, which I think makes it seem much more dramatic. The fabrics are rich and hang well, and there is simple accenting in the form of black suede gloves (according to Ms Paice herself), wide-brimmed hat that accentuates her blonde hair, and a relatively simple gold chain. It’s a visually impressive piece, and I love the way it just looks classical!

Second, we have this green, silky number that goes down to Ms Paice’s ankle. For the most part, it’s a simple dress with a traditional off-the-shoulder look that would have fit in at any swanky 1940s cocktail party (and indeed this costume makes an appearance in a scene set in the Ritz Hotel in Paris), especially on the figure of a wealthy woman like Milo. The lines are very classic and the fabric just looks so rich; having worked mostly in college productions, I can only dream of working with something this fine. But there is an additional element that I absolutely love about this one: the extra flare of silk on the left portion of the bust (viewer’s left, wearer’s right). It takes this dress from simply something that could appear in a Macy’s or Neiman Marcus window and elevates it to couture, a custom fashion made specifically for the wearer.

And one more thing about this dress: it flows, oh does it flow:

It floats outward and immediately comes back into place without looking wrinkled or shabby, and that is the sign of some truly quality work in any production, let alone one by Bob Crowley.

Next, we have an amazing skirtsuit that really shouts out for some analysis. A black A-line skirt is complemented and popped by the leopard-print blouse that imbues the character with two things: a sense of power and a sense of fun. During my review of Christine Ebersole’s wardrobe, I talked about the idea of power suits, and this definitely falls into that category. The cut of the dress (an A-Line) coupled with the color make clear that this is a serious person with serious business and ideas, while the blouse makes it clear that lurking underneath (literally!) there is a fun and vivacious character to be found. With very simple jewelry, the simple nature of the dress is allowed to carry the day, with the blouse itself acting as the accessory. Very clever mixture of techniques that I like!

This gown made its appearance in the Broadway debut of An American in Paris, appearing in the Bal des Beaux-Arts scene where everyone (or almost everyone) is enjoying a masquerade ball. For those who are fans of Phantom of the Opera, the concept of a masquerade ball is not alien; everyone wears their fanciest, most memorable couture and everyone carries or wears a simple mask that is adorned with beads, jewels, and/or feathers in order to conceal their identity.

Milo’s masquerade gown harkens back to the red-and-black checked coat at least in color scheme, and that’s something that I like–but the similarities end there. The skirt is ruffled with layers of what seems to be chiffon, while the black covering is a much smoother, more satiny fabric. Jill Paice said it was her favorite gown of the Broadway production because of the way it allowed her to move and breathe; because the dress is puffed out and because the black is fit to her figure, there’s no need for a corset or other structure underneath. That’s why it looks a little bit smoother in some regards on her upper body.

This dress appears at the beginning of Act II and is another entry in the couture-inspired designs. There’s some classic French and Hollywood glamor on display here, from the bodice that has an almost sensual black lace to the way the dress hangs elegantly without flowing too much; it’s definitely the kind of dress you expect to be seen in, rather than, say, go dancing intensely. While it’s not apparent in this shot, you can just see the hints of a large bow fixed at the back of the dress, a mark of custom design that once again reinforces that we are dealing with a character of means. The accessories are once again relatively simple; Milo Davenport is a character whose wealth and elegance speak for themselves. She doesn’t need fancy jewelry, though the necklace adorning her neck is a beautiful gold number that matches the tones of the dress well.

The last outfit of Milo’s I’ll cover is this number from the finale of Act II. Here, I must confess, I am not as avid a fan of Bob Crowley’s design as I am for some of the other pieces. I like the way the large floral adornment acts as a bridge between the patterned skirt and the un-patterned top of the dress, but the pattern itself strikes me as dated–even in the context of a 1940s-set musical. To be clear, I don’t object to floral patterns in general; indeed, I think Paloma Young did a beautiful job with them in Bandstand. But this one falls a little flat to me. Compared to the other costumes prepared for the character of Milo, this one just feels a bit more low-market. I freely admit that this may be a matter of personal taste, and I won’t criticize the work that went into it, but it just feels like it would have been better with either a different, more subtle pattern, or even as a black dress with some kind of accessories. One positive I will give it, however, is that it does hang well on Ms Paice and the fur stole/wrap really does do it justice.

And here’s the biggest reason I’m not as huge a fan: this dress started out as the dress on the far right of the Milo sketches that I posted earlier. There, it had a subtle pink skirt with the rose adornment. It was sleek and classical without being overly dramatic, and it avoided the somewhat dull pattern work that the final number had. But remember what I said: sketches are just the starting point. Clearly, someone (perhaps Mr Crowley himself!) decided that the final number needed to have Milo in a patterned skirt. It was a judgment call, and while I didn’t love it, I am sure there are many fans of the musical who did.

Overall, I really am in love with the classic, clean, couture look of the musical’s costuming, especially the majority of the dresses prepared for the Milo character. Bob Crowley is a master of the costuming arts and created some truly elegant and beautiful designs, even if I didn’t always agree with his choices. What makes them work is not only that they fit the era of the musical, but that they fit the personality of the character and the actress portraying her as well. On the whole, I can’t really find much to do but celebrate the way this turned out.

Next, I’ll take a look at some of the other costumes in this utterly lavish production, including those of the leading lady in An American in Paris. Bob Crowley put so much work into this musical that it’s only fair to give his costumes the full attention that they deserve.

Stay tuned!


🐻Mayor Bearie 🐻

🍂bee dress by @mayor-brandy
🍂 white stockings
🍂 brown pumps
🍂 * straw hat (only wears to hide her ears)

🍄 very laidback and calm
🍄 is a bear (hides her ears..idk how but she does lol)
🍄 oldest sister of the hazelnut siblings
🍄 loves the sound of crickets

* her skin is actually tan (its about an 11)
* bear ears are the same color as her hair
* another ref - art by me!

Get in line like everybody else
  • I had a few things to buy at a walmart so I head for the one in a mall I was shopping in. The entrance by the mall is checked by an old lady. As I enter, she had stopped two ladies wearing the hijab that had a stroller with a child in it. I pass, thinking nothing much of it since strollers and bag-packs are usually checked at these entrance. I go about my business, grab my things, pay and head back to the same entrance to leave. As I approach, I see that the lady had stopped a monk (Really, he was wearing the orange and brown robes, I was surprised because we rarely see monks fully dress as such in my part of the country) and an Hispanic lady with a child in her arms and a bag-pack. Naturally, I stop in line because I have a bag-pack so I assumed I needed to have it checked. The old lady spots me and says
  • Old lady: You can pass.
  • Me: But I have a bag-pack like the lady.
  • Old lady: It's not the same you can pass.
  • Me, without thinking to much: How is it not the same.
  • Old lady, as she stops a dark color skin woman and let's two white ass teen with huge bag-packs pass: It's just not. You can go.
  • Me, white ass Canadian chick: Oh...
  • Old Lady: So go, you can pass.
  • Me: Nah, I'll stay in line like everybody else. Ya know, so we all get the same treatment.
  • That just makes the old lady mad right but I don't budge. She just tries to convince me to move but I don't and even stop a white teen passing with a bag-pack.
  • Me: Hey, you gotta get in line, ya know, like everybody else.
  • The thing is, I live in Canada right. We are known to be welcoming and open people. I am proud to say I am Canadian but sadly, we are do not all share the same mind set. The old lady is just about to murder me when it's finally my turn. The Hispanic mother looks at me with a shy smile before she leaves and the dark colored skin lady behind has just the biggest smile imaginable. I try to get the old lady's name but she hides her name tag and won't give it to me. So I head over to the cassier to tell them what happened. As I leave, I flash a big smile to the lady and before making my exit.

anonymous asked:

I hate so much that we have to base being trans on sexist stereotypes. I hate that my dysphoria fucking keeps me from assuming typically feminine roles. I hate that I can't wear a skirt without literally having a full blown panic attack because it's "a girly thing". Heck no. Stop gendering colors. Stop gendering clothing. Stop gender roles. Stop stereotypical masculinity. But in the end, I just don't wear pink or dresses. I just follow the binary. I hate it.

Honestly you know what, same.
I wish I could enjoy slightly more feminine things without worrying about being judged or invalidated - but you know what, we just need to say screw it and try to enjoy the things we want to.

You said skirts give to you panic attacks, so don’t start there. Try to find something smaller and a little more what society would consider feminine and work your way up to bigger things.

It’ll be okay 💙 -Matt

Legends and Fables

Yoongi/Suga - You

(Vampire / Soulmate Au.)

Genre: Fantasy / slight angst

Word count: 2.427

Summary: Through the time, you and him. Together for eternity.

Pompeii, 79 AD.

When they came to our house, I wasn’t there.

It was a rather warm day, perfect weather for a walk outside, and I was coming back from the market place, taking the paved road that was filled with people.

The earth shook twice that morning and once last night, making it harder for people who sell goods to gather the now messy stalls, before the customers left their houses. They were happening again and again in an increasing speed, not giving people the time to get used to it. The earthquakes, that is.

“May the gods have mercy on us!” a seller yelled to the man beside me out of frustration “They must be angry, I tell you!”

Gods are always angry, I thought, I don’t think even they themselves know why they feel like that anymore.



I quickened my pace, returning before sunset, only to find my parent standing in the common room, looking at the strangers that were seated, their backs turned towards me.

My mother made a noise between a cry and choke after her eyes landed on me, making the heads of everyone turn. She tried to advance but was stopped by my father, as he called my name.

“We have guests.” He said, looking like he was about to snap “From the temple.”



They will surely not come for you, my mother used to tell me, We are wealthy enough they will not come for you.

But now they stood before me with white togas and smiles that didn’t reach their eyes. Why would it, their visits only meant one thing, they wouldn’t dare to actually smile.

“Gods blessed your fold.” The one with the large shoulders and crooked nose said. “We are here in behalf of them.”

I wanted to say they came to the wrong place, or simply leave like nothing happened. But it wouldn’t work, and they knew it as much as I did.

Their gods were angry. They showed it through their actions and my fathers stubbornness of not wanting to give me as a bride, even though I’ve seen more than twenty summers, now costed more than we could afford.

People were afraid and temple took action.

Give gods what they want.

A sacrifice…


As the desperation sank in I choked on my words, unable to respond. I heard the rumors before. I was not going to be the first one, nor the last.

“I was surely not the first choice.” I said, like a whisper.

“But not the last either.” He answered, voicing my thoughts. “The ceremony will be held at midnight. We must leave immediately.” They spoke, taking a few steps after gathering their clothing.

My name left my mothers lips before she turned her back. They were giving up. Forgetting me before I even left.

The two men took me by the arms, rushing outside.

I was to lose my life that night.

And I couldn’t even say goodbye. 


I lost count of it as they got ready for the ceremony. I was bathed, given new cloths and a proper meal before I was left alone in a large room. It had windows as tall as my house that were decorated with golden curtains and columns as white as the snow.

I was told to pray until they came back.

And I did.

Not for the safety of the people, or for the disasters to stop.

“Please have mercy.” I cried “I beg of you let me out of this situation.”

Selfish, I know…

I didn’t know what I was expecting. Maybe a miracle… Mostly silence.

Certainly not a voice.


“I can help you with that.” It echoed.

I jumped back, surprised, my eyes searching like crazy for the owner of the voice.

Standing near one of the tall columns, wearing nothing but sea silk, he was the incarnation of everything beautiful. Out of the place and almost godly. He surely wasn’t from the town, let alone the temple.

“Y-you shouldn’t be here.” I said as I backed away, trying to reach the door without him realizing “Who are you?”

“I am no one.” He answered “A traveler, a loner. You on the other hand, can call me Yoongi.”  The man took a few steps “I heard your wish. I can grant you that.”

He gave me a smile.

A smile that would leave the sun embarrassed as it shone so bright. A smile that reached his gem like eyes, unlike the people who took me by force. A smile that showed his ever so white teeth.

Teeth that didn’t belong to a human

“Monster” I whispered.

The elders called them creatures of night. Never believing they existed I was warned they were dangerous beings that left your body empty, your soul wandering  as they feed their curiosity and stomach.

“That was rude.” He laughed, walking towards me, now alerted, as I was near the closed exit.

“Stop!” I yelled “Gods will punish you for taking a life that belongs to them!”

His black hair clouded his eyes and his smile vanished. He advanced forward, grabbing me by the neck in the blink of an eye, slamming my body into the wall.

“I am giving you a life, not taking it.” He spoke behind his throat, leaning in. “You should be thanking me.”

Both pleasure and pain washed over me as his sinful lips pressed against my neck. His hands found my waist, holding it tightly.

“You are lucky I am simply curious today.” He said “Once you wake up run. For you life.”

The darkness took over as he showed me heaven,

And gave me hell.

England, 1356

“For the victory of Poitiers!” the man howled as everyone cheered and raised their glasses. I joined them for a second, before getting up.

Room was filled with drunk women and men, both lost in their sexual desires.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

If/when old ben and qui get bonded willmaul be able to attend, or will he just leave a gift/stand so only benknows he's there, because obviously he's chill but the other jedi are not. This is prompt I guess, if you feel up to it! Thanks!

There was a soft knock on his bedroom door and Ben looked up, blinking as he recognized the Force sensation behind it. “Obi-Wan? Come in please.” The copper haired padawan stepped in and smiled at him, moving to Ben’s side. “Hey, master sent me to check you’re alright.”

Ben blinked then smiled softly. “Of course, did Quinlan ask you to check on me too?”

“Maaaybe, he and Mace are still setting up the flower arch though.” Obi-Wan reached for the brush and settled beside Ben on the bed to brush the others long hair carefully, having done so for both his master and the older man in front of him. “And they may also have asked me to help you with your clothes just in case.”

Ben chuckled at that. “I would appreciate that actually, my shoulders hurts so lifting my arms are a bit…difficult right now.” He leaned back to allow Obi-Wan to carefully braid his hair with purple and gold bands. “It feels frivolous…”

“They’re the same color as the courting box, its tradition. Master told me. He’ll like to see them in your hair. Traditionally speaking your robes should be like this too but, well we are after all Jedi’s so dress whites.” He glanced at the robes and smiled a bit. “Though I see the quartermaster has taken the liberty of adding a bit of color.”

“Makes sense she insisted on the golden and purple belt. Is Qui-Gon’s hair like this too?”

“That would be telling Master Ben.”  Obi-Wan chuckled and tied of the braid just at the shoulder blades.


“Oh alright, no, his is lose.” Obi-Wan knelt down to help the other man into his boots, carefully lacing them up and tying them. “Are you nervous?”

“No. I…I don’t know what I’m feeling. I feel like this day has been a long time coming despite never having thought I’d end up in the past of all things. Does that make sense?”

“Not really but then again, not a lot have in the last few years.” Obi-Wan grinned as he helped the other stand. “But everything feels better, lighter. Yoda says the Force is easier to reach for and he has a better time letting it guide him. I reach my meditation easier too.”

Ben chuckled and allowed Obi-Wan to help him get into the white tunic and tabards before the purple and gold belts went around his waist, carefully cinched. “Purifying the temple has helped much. I’m glad.”

Obi-Wan carefully folded and tucked the sleeves around Ben’s wrists before looking at him. “…Are you happy Ben?”

“Happier then I ever thought I’d be. Are you Obi-Wan?”

The young man in front of him blinked then gave a wide smile, nodding. “Very.”


The Coruscantian night was alive with happiness, music and soft conversation, Ben resting his head against Qui-Gon’s collarbone with a soft smile as the older man carefully waltzed them around the garden ground.

Lanterns hanging from the gardens trees provided all the light they would need as it glittered of various night time blossoms, the living Force around them squealing in happiness.

On a table a purple and golden box rested, finally open and empty and its content gone. Two empty cups carried the remaining evidence of what had once been in it.

Ben raised his head enough to give his bondmate a soft kiss, a glowing golden bond pulsing warmly in the back of his mind that he knew would never fade as they took their path togheter. His faded green took in the modest table of gifts for the two bondmates and felt a smile flicker over his lips.

There on the table, healthy as the day he had seen it in the plant shop, was the Naboo honey lake tea  seedling.

anonymous asked:

Can a dark skin black person be Goth? It seems Goth is for only white people and being super pale almost white is the most popular look so it feels its not meant for Black people especially dark skin, love Goth but afraid of racism and rejection

Listen my friend, I am going to give you the same answer I gave the other person who asked me about dressing goth and wearing plus size. A person’s skin color, hair color, weight, ideologies, physical abilities, socioeconomic status etc have nothing to do with being goth or liking goth stuff. We’re all connected by the fashion, art, music, literature that we tend to gravitate towards. Our similar interests should transcend any discriminatory attitudes that people may have. Be yourself and like what you want to like. If you ever encounter someone who is being racist, the issue is not that you’re black and goth, the issue is that person’s upbringing and the lessons they were taught throughout their life. Don’t be afraid of rejection or let that make you feel like an outsider, just remember that you’re on a different wavelength, one on which you know how to accept people based on who they are and not on how they look. So basically, IF YOU LOVE THE GOTH LIFE, THEN LIVE THE GOTH LIFE ❤

anonymous asked:

I did not notice it until this video Kyle did. But Alex is now a carbon copy of Leda. Even down to dying her hair similar if not the same colors when Leda does, getting the same kinda nose ring, doing the EXACT SAME MAKE UP as Leda, and now dressing like Leda. I cant believe that flew over my head because Alex had her own look before hand. Its painfully obvious now because Leda has a VERY specific style about herself.

this is the latest video of her 


Honestly I think this is the thing I love most about FR though- like, I know some people insert themselves into the game as a ‘spirit’ or they make ‘dragonsonas’ but honestly, I always viewed the player as ‘Narrator’. Like.

I think because the player has no defined role in the game, we aren’t the clan leader like in Lioden and we’re not a pet owner like in Neopets or a collector like in Aywas, the fact that we can remove ourselves so entirely from the game, in a sense, opens up so many doors in terms of storytelling.

Like I’ve never been in a community that so earnestly supports each other in what are, for all intents and purposes, original creative endeavors. Like yeah, we’re all in the same general universe, but people toss the rules of that universe out on its ass all the time. ‘Fuck it, my dragons are human shapeshifters’ ‘Screw it, this dragon is a demon’ ‘Just as a note, this isn’t a dragon, this is actually a griffin.’ like. Somewhere down the line, a lot of us stopped treating this like a dragon breeding sim and turned it into a sprawling story sandbox, a collection of ocs and tales thinly held together with a loosely-defined world and colorful dress-up. As much as I would love a plot event, the fact that there really aren’t any just means that instead, we get unlimited range to carve out our own stories. Sometimes the stories involve ourselves. Sometimes they don’t.

And people get so invested in each others’ lore, they send questions, they come up with excuses to interact with other clans, they build alliances and inter-clan events, they tell stories and build family trees and create art and I just I love it, I love reading about people’s lore, and seeing people get excited about each others’ ideas.

I just really love the FR community, it has its downsides, it has its unfortunate members and it has its issues, but god damn, when its good it’s so good.